Edited by Marita Dachsel
and Nancy Lee
ARSENAL PULP PRESS
2023/$32.95/352 pp.
Anyone who, like me, finds repetitive and traditionally feminine labour torturous may find it hard to imagine that a book about sewing and knitting can be a page-turner. But, after reading the first of the 27 memoir-style essays in Sharp Notions, I was hooked. I pulled out a box of tissues and read on with a brief break for supper.
The writers and artists in this anthology contend that craft-making sets life’s alarming pace on pause; the gentle click of knitting needles, or the swoosh of a thread, makes harsh topics such as death and disability easier to endure. Some of the essays, for instance, help readers laugh at adversity. In “Perfect Imperfections” Kelly S. Thompson mocks her attempts to knit a replica of her beloved dog Pot Roast for a soon-to-be-born nephew. Four years later his mother passes away from sarcoma cancer and, by eerie coincidence, Pot Roast succumbs to the same condition. Bereaved, newly diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and clad in arm splints whose Velcro snags her wool, Thompson cries and smiles as she knits a life-sized version of Pot Roast. He ends up looking like a huggable anteater.
The theme of marginalization appears in many of these essays. “The Art of Being Alone,” by Rob Leacock, describes the solitude that knitting offers a man. During his son’s weekly soccer games, Leacock knits undisturbed, huddled in a camping chair far from the din of the dads’ circle. In contrast, Sandra Lamouche, a nehiyaw iskwew from Bigstone Cree Nation in northern Alberta, describes how Indigenous arts helped her establish deep connections to her community. Her story “One Bead at a Time” describes her experience of becoming a hoop dancer after feeling isolated as the only Native American in dance classes. In addition to performing, she also sews meticulously crafted costumes that connect her to the grandmother she never met. Her kokum, Sarah Cardinal, a master craftswoman, was one of the Missing and Murdered Indigenous women. Her murder remains unsolved.
“A Chicken Tries to Fly,” by Edmonton-based first-time-published author Ciara Farmer, sums up the astonishing range of topics this book unfolds. She describes knitting in the back rows of her university classes to soothe anxiety attacks. This private activity is an act of public rebellion against pressures to tie self-worth to profit. “Knitting is subversive,” she says. “It is the production of an object that you can buy for less than the cost of the joy of creating that object.”
As I put this book down, wishing it didn’t have to end, I see handcraft anew—not passive or tedious, but a time-honoured way to process and accept life’s vicissitudes in a troubled world.
Agnieszka Matejko is an artist and writer in Edmonton.
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